


It's the Thought that Counts (No It Isn't)

by Boxstorm



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boxstorm/pseuds/Boxstorm
Summary: Based on this post (prompt?) from tumblr user des-zimbits, who hopefully doesn't mind me running with it.Tater is a master of the art of tacky, tasteless Christmas presents that make people awkwardly unsure if he knows how inappropriate they are, or if he’s giving them out of honest good faith.  He’s like that dragon who hoards uncomfortable situations.Kent Parson does him one better by gladly accepting and openly using them, from the Hello Kitty travel mug to the Britney Spears body pillow.Every year it’s like a game of chicken: Tater tries to come up with a gift of even greater hideousness, trying to find something even Kent will blanch at.  At the same time, if he goes too far with his gift, he’s going to endure the pain of watching Kent use it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> 1) I obviously don't own Check Please, and have nothing to do with its creation or contents. I appreciate the chance to play with Ngozi's toys, though :)  
> 2) I am not Jewish. I therefore tried to avoid talking about Hanukkah with any kind of authority. That said, if I somehow still managed to fuck it up, please let me know!  
> 3) I very much do not speak Russian, and the brief Russian in this fic comes from a translation site. It may say "Happy Hanukkah". It may also say "I fucked your mom", and I would have no idea. (If you do have an idea, you could let me know if that's wrong, too.)

The thing is, it’s clearly a womens’ tank top; tapered at the waist, low-cut in the front, and the heart has… rhinestones? Jack is fairly sure those are rhinestones. Or glitter. The finer points of clothing-adhesive sparkles have never really been his thing.  
Jack has no idea what to say, his Canadian politeness warring with his need to know what the hell is going on before speaking.  
“Is Chippendales shirt,” Tater supplies helpfully.  
“Thanks, Tater,” Jack manages.  
The rest of the team, who have been holding their collective breaths throughout the interaction, finally burst into laughter and ultimately move on to the next gift in their “Secret Non-Denominational Present Swap”.  
Marty sidles over to Jack (who is still staring blankly at the hot pink mess in his hands), and slings an arm around his shoulders.  
“Sorry, man,” Marty says, “You drew the short straw this year and I meant to give you a heads-up… Tater isn’t exactly… good… at gifts.”  
Jack looks carefully from the top, to Marty, and back to the top, just to make sure that Marty is feeding him the greatest understatement in the history of understatements.  
“Okay, so it’s straight up trash,” Marty says with a shrug, “He’s a nice guy, and it’s hilarious for the rest of us. Point is, he doesn’t, like… keep track? Of whether you use the present or not? So word of advice, most of us just conveniently “lose” them somewhere. Far, far away.”  
Marty gives Jack another slap on the shoulder, then saunters off to hand out the next present while Jack contemplates his fate. 

 

He doesn’t mean to leave the shirt stuffed under the bed in Kent’s guest room (then again, he brought the shirt in the first place so he probably can’t claim full innocence…)  
Kent, for his part, finds the thing under his guest bed when he’s chasing Kit with a syringe of antibiotics. He picks it up, shrugs, and throws it on (he’s not wearing a shirt yet anyway, and he does have to go to the gym later).  
The picture he posts to Instagram goes viral in under half an hour.

 

“You are give gift to Kent Parson?” Tater asks Jack, seemingly apropos of nothing when they step off the ice into the locker room after practice.  
“Uh…” Jack says, and there’s that Canadian v. crippling anxiety thing again.  
“Shirt I give you? Is now on Kent Parson.” Tater explains, turning his phone so Jack can see a selfie of Kenny, peace sign, snapback, and all, and the “I :heart: the Chippendales” tank top on full display.  
Jack has a moment to be horrified, first that Tater is going to hate him for “losing” his gift, and second that Kenny actually put the damn thing on his body and then posted pictures to the internet, before Tater continues.  
“Is nice!” Tater says, the full force of his teddy bear grin turning from the phone to Jack intermittently, “Regifting, yes? Is good! Is mean two people get to like present.”  
The relief Jack feels is nothing short of all-encompassing, until Tater keeps talking.  
“I am not think of getting gift for other team, but Kent Parson is liking top so maybe I am getting him something special for him, yes?”  
Tater does not wait for the hesitant but comforting redirection Jack is trying to put together.  
He’s already stripping and heading for the showers by the time Jack figures out whether he even should say something, and Jack resolves to keep his mouth shut.  
It’s not like Tater has Kenny’s address or anything. This probably won’t even amount to anything.  
It’s fine.

 

It’s not fine.  
There’s a picture on Instagram of Kent Parson holding a Doc McStuffins sippy cup. The only reason Jack knows this is because it’s tagged #DocMcStuffins. The reason Jack knows this is a problem, is because it’s also tagged #Alexei”Tater”Mashkov #Falconners #7.  
Ten minutes later, the picture is followed up by a video wherein Kenny thanks Tater for the thoughtful gift, then goes on to review the item in question (apparently it’s aesthetically a ten, but functionally only a four).  
The review includes the line, “You have to suck so hard, and I’m not against a good hard suck on principle or anything, but not if it’s between me and parching my thirst.”  
Jack would chirp Kenny for most of the video, to be honest, if he didn’t already know that Kenny has nothing even resembling shame. 

 

It becomes a Thing, because of course it does. Tater continues to send Kenny more and more ridiculous “gifts”, and Kenny continues to unashamedly and very publicly use said gifts.  
It gets to a point where Jack realizes that Tater must know what he’s doing. He can’t possibly be this out of tune with appropriate gifting.  
Jack tries to just ignore it, he really does, but the videos are everywhere, and Tater keeps asking him if Kenny will like this or that tacky wall ornament (the answer is always ‘no’, and Tater always buys it), and at the end of the day, it’s easier to be absorbed into the madness than to continue fighting it.

 

Tater sending Kenny some sort of lime green, plastic Christmas tree monstrosity is what finally breaks Jack.  
‘IT’S MARCH’ Jack texts to Kenny when he sees the video.  
‘AND YOU’RE BOTH JEWISH’  
Kenny sends something back that Bitty assures Jack is a shrugging emoji. 

 

After that, Jack feels he needs to respond to each new video with the same level of enthusiasm. He’s become part of the horrifying tornado of a process and there’s no escaping now.  
He sends ‘YOU CAN’T EVEN USE A HAMMER’ after Kenny posts a grungy, rhyming wall decoration about no one else touching his power tools.  
He sends ‘YOU LIVE IN THE DESERT’ after Kenny gets a squirrel feeder that just looks like a larger squirrel head.  
He just sends ‘NO’ when Kenny posts a full-on glamour shot, vaseline-tinged lense and all, of himself wearing a Falconners bikini.

 

He has no response when Tater ships Kenny a glittery black glass dildo. 

 

Except to be thankful that no video accompanies that particular gift.

 

At least that Jack has seen. 

 

“Your friend is use everything I am send him,” Tater finally admits one day in late November, dropping his head dramatically onto Jack’s shoulder.  
The gift exchange has been going for almost a year at this point, and Tater is right. Kenny hasn’t balked at a damn thing.  
“Kenny has no sense of embarrassment,” Jack tells Tater sympathetically, “At all.”  
“I thought I am winning when I send him adult toy, but he is posting picture on Instagram anyway. And he send me video to my phone. I am not need seeing that.” Tater whispers the last part, staring at Jack with his eyes wide with what looks like maybe horror? A little bit of admiration? Arousal? Jack doesn’t want to think too hard about it. He’s seen Kenny naked enough times that his mind will immediately offer a full-colour image if he lets it.  
“Just give up,” Jack advises him, “I don’t think you can win this.”  
Tater lifts his head fully from Jack’s shoulder specifically to ensure that Jack can see his look of total affront.  
“I am always win,” Tater assures him, “At everything.”  
“Okay, that’s just completely untrue,” Jack laughs, “but don’t let me stop you. If anyone can be more stubborn than Kenny, it’s probably you.”  
“I am most stubborn,” Tater says immediately, “I think I have idea.”

 

The next time Jack goes shopping with Tater all Tater buys is a large blue bow.  
At this point, Jack knows better than to ask.  
At this point, Jack should know that not asking has no bearing on whether or not he gets an answer.  
Two weeks later, halfway into their painfully short winter break, Jack gets a long distance phone call from Tater.  
“Поздравляю с ханука!” Tater yells.  
“In English, Tater,” Jack reminds him, like a hypocrit. Tater always switches back to Russian when he goes home for the holidays, but it’s not like Jack is any better after a few days in Montreal.  
“I am say ‘Happy Hanukkah’ and-”  
Whatever Tater is about to say is cut off by someone in the background.  
“Who the fuck are you calling, Mashkov?” Kenny asks.  
“Aren’t you in Russia?” Jack manages to ask, around Kenny’s unmistakable drawl saying, “I leave for ten God damn seconds to get a glass of water and you’re already calling up other men?”  
Jack can tell that Kenny is chirping him, but he can hear Tater backtracking on the other end.  
“Is only Zimmboni!” Tater says.  
“Well tell him to fuck off,” Kenny says, voice more audible in a way that must mean he’s put his face right up to Tater’s phone, “I’m trying for round two, here.”  
“I’m hanging up!” Jack says, loudly, before pulling the phone away from his ear as quickly as possible and slamming the red button.

 

An hour and a half later, Jack receives two picture texts in rapid succession from Kenny.  
The first is a selfie of Kenny and Tater (from the shoulders up, thank God) with a bunch of Hanukkah clip-art overtop.  
The second is a picture of a man, from chest to knee, completely naked except for a blue bow stuck just below his bellybutton.  
Jack’s ears are already burning red before he even figures out that it’s the same bow Tater bought the last time they went shopping.  
The pictures are followed up by a text that just reads: “I still used it ;)”.  
Jack turns his phone off, puts his head down on his desk, and spends the next few minutes just being glad that there are two more days before he’ll have to look Tater in the eyes again.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on Tumblr with the same username (Boxstorm), where I post sneak-peeks, shorter fic, and stupid stuff I think of while drunk.  
> It's a wild ride.  
> (No it isn't)


End file.
